Spiral of Destinations
by kathryn-hs
Summary: Introspection, from Bobby's POV. Things are spinning out of control, and he is alone with his fears.


Author's Note: Well, this popped into my head and had to come out, make of it what you will. I don't usually write in first-person, let me know what you think. This is a one-shot, just so you know. I think leaving it as it is works best. The T rating is just because this isn't light and cheery, so I rated it accordingly. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Yeah, a kid in Grade 10 owns the rights to L&O:CI? While it'd be nice, ain't gonna happen!

_I lie awake at night, thoughts filling my head. The bizarre shapes flit back and forth, in every conceivable and inconceivable shade. From technicolor, black and white, to subtle shadings of grey. They move in strange, shimmering patterns, flowing and chasing each other like flashing clouds of minnows._

_Shouldn't a man understand the workings of his own mind? It is the only thing that truly belongs to me, the one thing they shouldn't be able to take away. And yet, the monsters don't come from outside. The strange, crimson-hued demons live within the shadowy recesses of my brain, lurking, waiting for a chance to peep out. I fill my head full of arcane facts, hoping to drive them from their increasingly over-crowded quarters, but they remain, laughing at my attempts to stifle them. My mother has them too. I see them looking out of her, and the hint of recognition in my mind terrifies me._

_I must be stronger than her, going about my day-to-day business, looking after her because she can't. It's the only way to go on with my life. I seemed to be managing, as well as I could. Lately, it's become harder, and I push everything and everyone away, trying to think of nothing. But I can't keep from thinking of what is happening to her._

_And I am powerless._

_So I lie awake, alone at night, attempting to fall into blissful oblivion. Yet thoughts grow and fill my head, swelling to the bursting point. In vain I try to drain them off, lance the painful abscess that is my mind, but it does not help._

_To feel nothing would be a blessing beyond belief. My job offers no relief anymore. Before, learning of others' sufferings seemed to help me in some way. It was as though I was not alone, and I could make a difference, put something right in the world. Now? Now, as I delve into the losses of human lives, searching the dark underbelly of avarice and greed, my already fractured heart breaks a little bit more each time. I am one man; they are too many to count. For every murderer we catch and put behind bars, hundreds walk unchallenged and without fear._

_I said we, didn't I? Yes, I suppose I did. Her face is prominent in my late-night thoughts. Fine, gold-streaked hair tapering down to just below her shoulders, an unusual, striking face, with deep brown eyes that can see straight through me if I let them. I don't give them a chance to, lately. A face that has dealt with her own sorrows like loss of a husband, and grown stronger from them doesn't need to be burdened with my own. I've caused her enough pain already._

_Alexandra Eames. It seems simpler to turn away from her, for I don't know what to tell her anymore. There was a time when we could communicate on a level that went deeper than words. Where I didn't need to bare my soul in conversation or anything so dramatic, but she would understand me and not be turned away by the sad, messed-up individual that I am._

_Now, I don't give her the chance to be repulsed. I avoid her penetrating gaze, pushing her away despite the hurt in her voice. I regret it, but what else can I do?_

"_Back off." Two words, said as a reflex, but for once instead of showing with body language how I felt, I crossed the line and said it out loud. Somehow, that made it cut deeper for her, I can tell. She's better off, I tell myself as I lie in my cold bed at night. I cause her less hurt and disappointment this way. I'm keeping her safe._

_The eerie glow of my alarm clock lights up my bedroom, casting distorted shadows that loom until with a faint cry I toss a blanket over it._

_I close my eyes. Darkness. I open them. Darkness. Are they really open? I grope at my face with a hand that shakes. Darkness. The lashes brush against my palm as I blink rapidly. Yes, they are still open. Darkness! Pouring in like molasses, thick and velvety smooth, choking me, akin to the clamoring thoughts in my head. DARKNESS!_

_I snatch the blanket off, and there is light again. My long-fingered hand rests on the solid clock's top, holding on to the feeble anchor._

_It's strange, humankind's fear of the unknown. We are terrified of what we do not comprehend, and we, creatures of daytime and Sol's light, are afraid of the dark. I am afraid of the blackness and the lack of understanding inherent within it. Even half-light is better than none._

_That, I think, is why my current situation frightens me so badly. I cannot see a glimmer of light, not even enough to make out whether it is in fact a tunnel, with a quantifiable destination, or some crazy spiral maze I must wander, lost._

_Disappointment. That is another fear I carry. I fear that I disappoint everyone sooner or later. I try so hard not to let my mother down, even though I know she wants my brother instead of me. She will die disappointed and trying to get me to live up to standards I fail to meet, again and again. I disappoint Eames. She tried to reach out, and I slapped her away. Yet, she still tried to stick up for me to the Captain. Why? I am not worthy of her. Am I?_

_I sigh, and my hand slips to the dresser beside my bed. The unexpected cold metal of my cell sends a jolt through me, and my thoughts freeze for one blessed moment, before heading in a direction they never have gone before. An epiphany, it is often called._

_Why did she stand up to the Captain? Why did she try to cover for me? Because somehow, despite all I've done to her, the woman still cares. Her sarcastic comments and steady efficiency hide a truly good heart, and she keeps offering in spite of all I do to turn her away._

_I close my eyes, for once not minding the waterfall of thoughts as it cascades and churns. How late is it? I turn. 12:37, I read in a sickly green glow. Though through my selfish misery I have made no response, I do recall her mentions of having difficulty sleeping. She would probably be still awake, wouldn't she?_

_I hug the phone to myself, cradling it like a child with a favourite toy. It is my lifeline, to a connection I realize I don't want to lose._

_What if she hangs up, refuses to talk to me? I ask myself. Well, then I'll be right back where I was, alone with my thoughts, the demons and the shadows, waiting for a distant dawn. If she does… That is something I cannot predict, but anything is better than this constant pain and loneliness. She is hurting, so am I. Give and take, a two-way street. Could I manage? What if I fail, and just let her down again?_

_I am afraid._

_My finger is motionless over my speed dial for another five minutes, as I worry and argue with myself. Then, suddenly, it presses. A slight click as the button depresses, then the ringing starts._

_I hold it up to my ear, unsure even now if I want her to pick up. Suddenly, silence._

"Hello? Bobby?" _Her voice is alert, and filled with a wary compassion._

_I find that my throat has seized up at the sound of her voice, and I fight to clear it._

"Eames."_ My voice is hoarse, rusty from disuse, but a note of regret and apology is evident, as well as a faint pleading. _"Could…could we talk? Please."

_There is a silence, so long that my forehead breaks into a cold sweat. Finally, she speaks._

"I'll be right over."


End file.
